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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776599">come into the water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/amilynholdo/pseuds/amilynholdo'>amilynholdo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, delly is there cause she's Baby, m+m spend half of this being like eyes emoji at each other, marilla thinks muriel+bash are together and she is... wrong, mention of micheal's death, the inherent homoeroticism of the sea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:34:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/amilynholdo/pseuds/amilynholdo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marilla's curiosity towards Muriel's new hobby of choice leads her to make a discovery: Muriel misses the sea. They'll have to remedy to that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marilla Cuthbert/Muriel Stacy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>come into the water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Delphine pulls on Marilla’s skirt, trying to get herself to stand up. Marilla is tempted to pick her up, if anything so she can free her skirt and move to reach for the basket of laundry she needs to fold. Still, she lets the child get her way. She knows Bash is always way too quick to pick Delly up, and, as much as Marilla’s been known to spoil the baby herself, she fears Delphine might never learn to walk if she is always carried everywhere, never letting her feet touch the floor. You might think her a little princess, from the way her father treats her.</p><p>Then, Delphine’s little hand lets go of the fabric, and she falls back on the ground. For an instant, it looks like she is going to burst into tears, and Marilla worries she might have hurt herself. Thankfully, her grimace bursts into a fat little laugh, the liveliest sound Marilla has ever heard. She rolls around, and picks herself back up, this time careful to hold on to Marilla.</p><p>‘Well done, young lady,’ compliments her Marilla with a fond smile.</p><p>Delphine smiles back at her, and, in that moment, she looks so much like her mother that it makes Marilla’s heart ache. She picks Delphine up, sitting her on her lap and placing a kiss on the baby’s head, and is finally able to get the laundry basket and start folding.</p><p>She doesn’t strictly <em>need </em>to fold it. It’s not her own laundry after all, and this is not her kitchen, nor did anybody ask her to do anything but mind Delphine, but she will always do what she can to help Sebastian. Bash’s mother has taken to travelling to Charlottetown to attend church on Sundays. It angers Marilla that she would have to in the first place, but having known Mary taught her why she would choose to. It takes Mrs Lacroix several hours to get there, attend the service, and come back, so Bash is usually left with the child all day. Today, though, the sky is clear over Avonlea, and Sebastian asked Marilla if she could look after Delphine as he went fishing. She never knew fishing to be a hobby of his, but she agreed happily.</p><p>She folds away quickly, without needing to think through her movements, her hands used to the gestures. Delphine chatters cheerfully on her lap. She isn’t able to string together coherent words yet, but that doesn’t stop the baby from spending every waking moment ‘talking’, or, rather, making sounds that imitate the cadence of the adults around her. Marilla replies to her nevertheless, she doesn’t see the need to treat the child as if she was anything other than perfectly capable of understanding her.</p><p>The child reaches for a frilly little garment, and makes a gurgling sound.</p><p>‘Yes, that is your dress,’ replies Marilla, nodding.</p><p>Delphine makes another sound, more like an excited ‘Eh!’ this time.</p><p>‘It is indeed very beautiful,’ Marilla agrees, ‘What do you say, should we ask your father to put it on you later?’</p><p>Apparently delighted, Delphine claps her little hands.</p><p>In that moment, the door opens, and behind it is Sebastian, entirely loaded with fishing equipment, looking rather silly. His unusual look makes the baby laugh.</p><p>‘Speak of the devil, right, Delphine?’ says Marilla, which for some reason makes Delphine laugh even more.</p><p>‘Yes, yes, you’re laughing now,’ replies Bash to his child in mock anger, ‘but will you be laughing when you see these?’</p><p>He steps aside, revealing Muriel Stacy behind him, holding a bucket full of fish. This does nothing to stop Delphine’s amusement. In fact, it makes the matter worse.</p><p>However silly the sight is – and it is quite silly, Marilla thinks – Marilla is suddenly concerned about her own appearance. She’d changed into a plain dress before coming here, figuring that wearing one’s Sunday clothes around a baby is never a good idea, but now she wishes she hadn’t, although she couldn’t say why. She simply wasn’t expecting to see Miss Stacy.</p><p>Muriel waves at her from under her hat with a hint of a smile on her lips. However large the rim of her hat, it didn’t stop her cheeks from turning red in the sun. She sets the bucket of fish on the table, right next to the clean laundry. Marilla rushes to move it, protecting her hard work.</p><p>As soon as she realises, Muriel apologises: ‘I am so sorry, I didn’t see that! I was just eager to put this down somewhere.’</p><p>As Marilla moves the bucket next to the stove, she realises what the other woman meant.</p><p>‘Yes, it’s… quite the load,’ she concludes.</p><p>‘I swear, Miss Marilla, I did offer to carry it, but Miss Stacy here refused,’ specifies Sebastian, trying to acquit himself of a crime nobody accused him of.</p><p>Muriel shrugs.  ‘It wasn’t a problem!’ she explains, removing her straw hat. ‘It felt good, knowing we’d caught all that!’</p><p>‘We might have let ourselves get carried away,’ comments Bash, ‘You’ll have to take half of that,’ he says to Muriel.</p><p>‘Half? I couldn’t possibly take that much! Have you forgotten I live on my own?’ replies Muriel.</p><p>‘Well, somebody will have to take some of it…’ Sebastian remarks.</p><p>Simultaneously, as if choreographed, both he and Muriel turn to Marilla.</p><p>‘Miss Marilla, could you please take some of it?’</p><p>Marilla tries to protest that Anne has just moved out of Green Gables, and, with her, her infamous appetite, so even half of that is enough to feed her and Matthew for several days, and they have nowhere to keep it without it going bad. Nevertheless, Muriel and Bash’s double insistence is enough to get her to agree to take at least enough to make a fish pie.</p><p>Which is how Marilla ends up walking back to Green Gables with Muriel carrying half a bucket of fish a few steps ahead of her. With the excuse of only having one container, Muriel insisted she should walk her home first, even though that is entirely out of the way to the teacher’s cottage.</p><p>They walk in silence for a while. Marilla thinks maybe she should say something.</p><p>‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today.’</p><p>Muriel slows down, so they’re walking side to side.</p><p>She replies: ‘Weren’t you?’</p><p>Marilla shakes her head.</p><p>‘I didn’t know Sebastian had a fishing partner.’</p><p>‘I’d say I’m his fishing teacher, more than his partner,’ Muriel lets out a chuckle, then continues in a stage whisper, ‘Between the two of us, I don’t think he’s caught more than one of the fishes we brought back today. I think I’ve maybe seen him catch three in the entire time we’ve been going.’</p><p>Marilla chuckles at the image. A feeling rises to the very top of her belly, one she can’t name.</p><p>‘You’ve been going often?’ Marilla’s curiosity leads her to ask.</p><p>‘Oh, we’ve been fishing together all summer,’ explains Muriel, ‘It’s been a habit we’ve developed at the end of the school year, when… Well, you know.’</p><p>Marilla knows. She means when the school was burnt down. Marilla can see it still stings. She simply nods, a silent way of saying: I know. I know.</p><p>‘I took up fishing again when that happened, and I met Bash with Delphine. Apparently, the best fishing spots also tend to be great sunbathing spots for babies.’</p><p>The sun is low enough for Marilla to have to squint when she turns to face Muriel. The light behind the other woman is making it easy to see how shiny her blonde hair is, and not at all easy to decipher her expression.</p><p>‘I see.’</p><p>‘So, we got talking and it ended up becoming a regular occurrence.’ Muriel punctuates the sentence with a small shrug, and that is what gets Marilla thinking there might be more to this relationship than Muriel is letting on</p><p>The idea shakes Marilla. It shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t. Muriel and Sebastian are both adults, and they’re both her friends, and so what if they enjoy each other’s company? They have a right to. Yet, Marilla’s breath shortens at the thought. It has nothing to do with Bash. God knows it would make Marilla very happy to see him happy, and Muriel has always been very good with Delphine. It’s just… Well, Marilla never imagined this was the life Muriel wanted in Avonlea, and she feels a kind of betrayal, right in the center of her chest. Which she has no right to feel, she knows. But she feels it nonetheless.</p><p>She realises Muriel has been waiting for some kind of response from her, so she rushes to reply: ‘Well, that sounds lovely.’ She must sound quite absent, so tries to show interest: ‘Have you always liked fishing?’</p><p>It comes out stiff, awkward, and, not for the first time, Marilla wishes she could be a better conversationalist.</p><p>Muriel doesn’t seem to notice the amount of effort it’s taking Marilla to get any word out. She simply nods, finding her enthusiasm for the topic again.</p><p>‘Since I was a child. My father used to take me when I was little.’ Marilla can hear from her tone that this really means a lot to Muriel. ‘His own father was a fisherman back in the old country.’</p><p>‘England?’ Marilla asks.</p><p>‘Ireland. Mind you, that was a very different kind of fishing. In the sea. That was how he earned his living. He had a boat, and nets, and everything. I think my father missed that his whole life. He took us to the seaside whenever he could, but he never lived close to the sea again.’</p><p>She ends her tale with a wistful tone, like she’s expressing a wish she doesn’t know how to word. A bird sings its evensong, and it sounds like it’s singing it to the two of them only. They have almost reached Green Gables, and Marilla knows they will soon have to part ways. At the thought, she feels compelled to let go of any worry about her feelings or the reasons behind them, and just be here, walking home on this beautiful evening.</p><p>Marilla considers what Muriel said, and she nods. ‘Your father might not have, but you do,’ she tells her.</p><p>Muriel seems to be shaken out of her nostalgia. ‘That’s right, I do!’ Her face lights up, her head tilts to one side. ‘Can you believe I’ve lived on this island for almost two years now, and I never went to the seaside?’</p><p>Marilla thinks of Anne, dragging her and Matthew there last year.</p><p>‘Really? Be sure not to let Anne hear you say that, she will be scandalised. Months ago she insisted Matthew and I take her there. She just couldn’t wrap her head around why we might not have felt compelled to go see the sea.’</p><p>‘Well, I have <em>seen</em> the sea,’ replies Muriel, ‘but I haven’t properly spent a day there, not like we used to when I was little.’</p><p>Marilla can see Green Gables now. This is the point where she usually speeds up her pace, eager to get home. Today, she finds that she wants to go as slow as possible.</p><p>‘Well, we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?’</p><p>She doesn’t necessarily mean it as an invitation, just the kind of thing people say in these occasions.</p><p>‘Will we?’</p><p>The way Muriel responds, surprised, but not at all displeased, with a dash of eagerness in her tone, tells Marilla she may be seriously taking her up on this. To Marilla’s surprise, the thought doesn’t displease her. No, in fact, she decides the idea excites her.</p><p>‘Of course we will.’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It takes Muriel a while to find a free day, with the new school year approaching, and the workload that brings, but she does take Marilla up on her offer in the end. She makes sure to pick a quiet day, when she is able to convince Marilla that Green Gables can do without her. It’s early fall – or late summer? Muriel can never tell on days such as this, when the sun is high and still warm, but the air carries a freshness that will soon turn into cold – when she shows up early on Marilla’s doorstep.</p><p>Marilla opens the door with a small smile on her lips, and a shawl on her shoulders, and Muriel wants to tell her she looks nice. She’s been wanting to for a while. She never does, and contents herself with thinking it, whenever they see each other. They have been seeing each other quite often, since Anne has left for college. More often than they strictly need to, probably. But she’s allowed to have friends, isn’t she? And so what if she’s a tad<em> too</em> excited to see said friend? So what if she does want to tell said friend how nice she looks? As long as she doesn’t actually do it, it should be fine, Muriel thinks. She should be able to contain this.</p><p>Because she knows what this is. She knows it all too well. She won’t– <em>can’t</em> name it, but she knows it. She knows the dance she feels in her chest when she sees Marilla, the dance she’s feeling right now. She also knows nothing will come of it, if she names it, so she doesn’t. She is happy with the gift of time spent together.</p><p>They ride the Cuthbert’s carriage to the very edge of the island. It’s windy and Muriel’s lungs fill up with the smell of the sea. The air fizzes against her skin as they leave the carriage behind and climb down to the beach.</p><p>Marilla is carrying a basket, whose contents are covered with a thick blanket. She sets it down on the sand, and takes the blanket off it to lay it on the ground, and sits on top of it, leaving space for Muriel.</p><p>‘Oh, my stars!’ exclaims Muriel when she sees the wealth of food in the basket.</p><p>‘Just some light refreshments,’ replies Marilla, clearly aware of just how much food that is for merely two people.</p><p>Muriel sits down in the empty spot next to Marilla, unable to stop eyeing the basket.</p><p>‘We could have some of it now, if you’d like to,’ says Marilla. Either she has the ability to read minds, or Muriel’s hunger shows that much on her face. Perhaps both.</p><p>‘Could we? I haven’t eaten all day.’</p><p>Marilla nods. Then, Muriel thinks she sees Marilla’s nod turn into an amused shaking of her head, but she wouldn’t be able to tell for sure, she’s already turned to the basket and extracted two sandwiches. She hands one to Marilla, and the other lands unceremoniously into her own mouth.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ says Marilla, and then: ‘Is this like it was in your childhood?’</p><p>‘I don’t know,’ responds Muriel playfully, ‘for starters, the weather is far too nice. I miss the charm of spending a whole morning preparing to go to the sea, then arriving there and getting caught in a rainstorm. That was just delightful.’</p><p>The corners of Marilla’s mouth turn upwards as she plays along.</p><p>‘Yes, I must say this sun really is disgraceful.’</p><p>She says this with her eyes closed, her face toward the sky, soaking in the sunlight.</p><p>‘And the fresh breeze?’ Muriel one-ups her, ‘Terrible. Dreadful, even.’</p><p>‘Awful!’ Marilla adds with fake emphasis.</p><p>Then there is a pause, and Muriel decides she should answer Marilla’s original question.</p><p>‘Storms aside, yes, it was pretty much like this. Except with nine of my siblings shouting and bickering, so not as quiet.’</p><p>Marilla opens her eyes wide and looks at her, surprised. ‘Nine?’</p><p>Muriel nods. ‘Nine. I’m the youngest by several years.’</p><p>Marilla raises an eyebrow.</p><p>‘Well, that explains it.’</p><p>Muriel’s mouth opens in mock scandal. ‘Excuse me? That explains what, exactly?’</p><p>Marilla goes back to facing the sun with closed eyes, nonchalantly, a relaxed, knowing expression on her face.</p><p>‘You.’</p><p>Muriel doesn’t know if she should take that as a compliment. She chooses to do so and moves on.</p><p>‘What about you and Matthew?’ she asks, ‘Did you go to the beach when you were kids?’</p><p>Marilla speaks from behind her closed eyes, hands planted in the sand behind her, absent-mindedly.</p><p>‘Michael took us once.’</p><p>‘Michael?’</p><p>Hearing the name said by a voice which isn’t hers shakes Marilla out of her reverie. She sits up with a sudden motion, her spine gaining a rigidity that Muriel hasn’t seen on her all morning.</p><p>‘Our brother.’ She says, drily, ‘He died when I was fifteen.’</p><p>Muriel feels a pang of guilt. For asking? For not knowing? She’s not sure what for.</p><p>‘I’m sorry,’ she says, then immediately feels silly for thinking ‘sorry’ means anything in the face of a 50-year-old loss.</p><p>‘He did things like that, sometimes. Took us to the beach, or to some fair out of town.’</p><p>Marilla’s gaze is determined, like remembering Michael is a mission she’s set for herself.</p><p>‘We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to,’ says Muriel.</p><p>For a while, the only answer she gets is the placid sound of the waves.</p><p>Then: ‘It’s fine. He’s been on my mind lately. More often than ever.’ A wave comes in, a wave goes out. ‘When he died, there was Matthew to take care of, and I couldn’t waste time mourning.’</p><p>In hearing Marilla talk of mourning as a waste of time, Muriel feels almost ashamed of her own obnoxious nostalgia for childhood. She wishes she hadn’t made it sound like missing the beach was that big a deal. Then again, if she hadn’t they wouldn’t be here, having this talk. And Muriel is glad to be having it here, with the sea to fill the silences.</p><p>Marilla is starting to relax again. Her bare feet are planted in the sand, and they’ve dug a veritable trench in front of the blanket.</p><p>‘I think I always thought of Michael as Matthew’s hero, he was not mine to miss.’</p><p>‘He was your brother too,’ rebuts Muriel, as gently as possible.</p><p>‘I know that now,’ says Marilla, her voice certain enough to reassure Muriel, ‘But for a long time I felt like I was just holding Matthew back, being too strict and too…’ She stops.</p><p>‘Matthew is so grateful to you. Everybody can see that.’</p><p>Marilla nods, finally convinced.</p><p>‘What changed?’ asks Muriel.</p><p>‘Anne.’ Marilla says succinctly.</p><p>‘Of course. Anne.’</p><p>‘Of course,’ Marilla closes the topic, now looking Muriel in the face, eyes sure, and lips relaxing into a smile.</p><p>The waves keep coming back to the shore, again and again, and, every time, they roll away with the same constance. And every time they come back. And every time they roll away.</p><p>‘Nine siblings, Irish and an expert in fishing…’ mutters Marilla, ‘What else have you been hiding?’</p><p>Her tone is dry, but it is clear that she’s talking in jest.</p><p>‘Well, I’m hardly Irish. My father was, I myself have never even stepped foot in the country. And I wasn’t hiding my siblings, it’s just no one’s ever bothered to ask about my childhood before.’</p><p>Muriel, too, is talking in jest. Only when she speaks the words out loud she realises how true they are. No one in Avonlea ever asked her about her past much, outside of questioning whether she was fit to teach the town’s children. Maybe they’re afraid of uncovering some thorny story about her infamous “tragical romance”. Or perhaps, having all known each other their entire lives, the Avonleans are just not used to asking each other such questions. It’s peculiar, and some kind of honor, that of all people in town it is Marilla who showed interest. Muriel would think it was faked out of politeness, if she didn’t know Marilla to be incapable of faking anything, let alone politeness.</p><p>‘And what about the fishing?’ Marilla continues prodding her, teasingly.</p><p>‘I wasn’t <em>hiding</em> the fishing. It just never came up. I thought you knew through Bash anyway.’</p><p>Muriel feels the need to justify herself somehow, like there is something she needs to say, but she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint what.</p><p>‘I know,’ responds Marilla, with a sweet hint of sadness in her voice, like she’s letting go of something and she doesn’t know about it yet. ‘You have nothing to worry about. I’m not–’ She interrupts herself. ‘You have a right to spend your time however you like. I’m very happy you and Sebastian found each other.’</p><p>There’s something about the phrasing of that last sentence. Something about the tone it is said in.</p><p>Oh. Oh. Does Marilla think… Does Marilla think Muriel and Bash…</p><p>‘We’re just friends!’ Muriel blurts out.</p><p>She is sure she sounds pathetic. It’s like the sound didn’t even come out of her, like her body acted without her knowledge. She just needed Marilla to know.</p><p>She forces a chuckle out, pretending she was exaggerating her reaction. ‘We’re just friends,’ she repeats, trying to make herself sound more nonchalant this time. ‘Both outsiders and all that. He’s a good friend to talk to, but he’s still in love with Mary, and I think he always will be.’</p><p>‘I see,’ replies Marilla, with an inscrutable look on her face. Her chest and shoulders rise with an inhalation, and then relax conspicuously. ‘Sorry for assuming.’</p><p>‘As for me… let’s say I am not interested.’</p><p>Marilla shoots her a look for an instant, like she almost understood. Not quite, though. Just as quickly, she goes back to looking at the waves.</p><p>Muriel can’t believe she said this. She cut it so close, and for what? For some sort of joke only she understands?</p><p>The sun is at its highest point, and it is getting quite warm. She undoes the top button of her blouse, trying to feel the breeze on her skin. She needs a change of topic.</p><p>‘How about we get in?’</p><p>‘Get in what?’ asks Marilla, confused.</p><p>‘The water.’</p><p>With that, she gets up, and starts taking her shirt and trousers off. She walks to the very limit of the dry sand, then turns back to Marilla, who is still sitting.</p><p>‘Come on!’ she gestures for Marilla to join her.</p><p>‘Oh, I couldn’t…’ she replies, looking down, away from Muriel.</p><p>Muriel realises that the possibility of Marilla refusing, and her having to walk back to the blanket and put her clothes back on, looking like an idiot for exposing herself so quickly, is pretty high. She wouldn’t dive in on her own and leave Marilla on the shore. Which means now she’s highly invested in getting Marilla to agree to come in.</p><p>‘Please?’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The water is cold. Colder even than it looked from the blanket. Each freezing wave hits Marilla with delicate violence: on her claves, then on her shins, her knees, her thighs. Once they reach her waist, Marilla stops where she is. Her feet planted firmly on the sea floor, she allows herself to just be swayed by the water.</p><p>It is too bright to see almost anything, with the sun reflecting on each shimmering ripple of the sea. Marilla covers her eyes with her hand, a drop of salt water falls from her finger to her eyelashes. Among all the glittering, where the water is even deeper, she makes out a spot that glitters an entirely different shade of gold. It’s Muriel’s hair, half-dipped into the water, and Marilla thinks she can see a smile under it.</p><p>‘Come on! It’s not so bad once you’re completely in!’</p><p>Marilla wants to believe it. She wants to be convinced that this will all be less overwhelming if she just throws all of herself in. She feels a force holding her back, the force she’s so used to feeling. The one that kept her on the shore the last time she was here. But this time, she’s already halfway in, and she’s tired of telling herself that she didn’t want to go in anyway. Muriel’s voice calls her again, and she knows she wants to go in.</p><p>She leaps forward, and, all of a sudden, she’s in to her chin. She’s never been a great swimmer, but she finds an image in her mind of Michael teaching her how to stay afloat. She is not worried. In fact, she is so much calmer than she expected to be. There is no doubt anymore. She thinks of Michael, and she thinks of Matthew and Anne all those months ago. And she hears Muriel’s voice calling her. She dives her head in for an instant.</p><p>When she emerges, the salt burns in her eyes but the water doesn’t feel as cold anymore. Muriel’s face is so close to hers that she could count every freckle on it. Marilla becomes extremely aware of just how beautiful the other woman is.</p><p>‘You really went in, eh?’ asks her Muriel, gaze planted on Marilla’s face.</p><p>‘You told me to!’ replies Marilla. Suddenly, she worries she might have gone too far and made a fool of herself.</p><p>Muriel smiles. ‘Not with your head!’ She briefly gestures at her own hair, mostly still dry.</p><p>Marilla smiles back. ‘I’ve never been one to do things halfway.’</p><p>‘No, I’ve noticed.’</p><p>Muriel’s head disappears under the water. When she reappears, her eyes move straight back to Marilla.</p><p>‘Never halfway!’ she proclaims, like it’s an ancient motto. When she says it like that, it sounds like a good thing, a thing with power.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In hindsight, they could have planned this better. As they come out of the water, Muriel realises they only have the one blanket to dry themselves and keep themselves warm. She spots a large rock that looks decently smooth, and decides to go sit there, facing the sun, to leave Marilla the blanket, and some privacy. It is sunny enough that Muriel should be able to get dry just by sitting there. It might take a bit longer, though.</p><p>The rock is warm from the sun, but not as smooth as Muriel thought. She tries to find a comfortable way to sit, but it is to no avail. She settles for the way that hurts the least. She tries to fashion her still wet hair into a braid to keep it from leaking all over her. She hoped that the breeze might help her dry herself, but now she is starting to feel a shiver.</p><p>She hears the subtle noise of Marilla’s bare feet walking in the sand, so she concentrates on keeping her eyes on the line where the ocean meets the sky. She concentrates so hard that she doesn’t realise that Marilla is coming towards her until she feels the fabric of the blanket being placed on her shoulders.</p><p>‘You’re shivering,’ Marilla says, as she sits next to Muriel on the uncomfortable rock.</p><p>Her voice shakes Muriel out of her concentration.</p><p>‘You’re going to be too, if you don’t keep this on,’ she replies, ‘I won’t let you catch something’. She reaches for the blanket on her back, and, as she takes it off to hand it to Marilla, it hits her just how much she cares that the other woman is safe and comfortable.</p><p>‘Well, then there is only one sensible solution,’ replies Marilla, like Muriel should know what she means.</p><p>Muriel does in fact not know what she means, so she just waits for an explanation.</p><p>‘You won’t let me catch something, I won’t let you catch something. We’ll have to share, then.’ With that, Marilla slings the blanket around herself, then extends one side of it to Muriel.</p><p>There is no point arguing against it. It just makes sense. Immediately, with the cover shielding her from the wind, Muriel is able to enjoy the warmth of the sun much more. This is a much more pleasant arrangement than giving up the blanket out of chivalrous stubbornness. Two people, one blanket, wet underclothes that you cannot wear your dry clothes over, and a breeze that already smells of autumn: of course sharing is the reasonable choice. Practical and entirely innocent.</p><p>Except that faultless reasoning does nothing to change how very <em>un</em>-innocent Muriel is feeling right now. She tries to distance herself to Marilla, to avoid their bodies touching and maintain propriety, but there is only so much distancing she can do before the blanket will fall off her shoulder. She can so acutely feel all of the points where their limbs brush each other with the smallest of movements.</p><p>Muriel notices how the skin on Marilla’s upper arm is much lighter above the point her sleeves usually roll up to when she’s working outside. Much lighter, but no less freckled. Then, her eye falls on Marilla’s shoulder and collarbone, usually covered up by high necklines and now exposed in the most beautiful of surprises. Marilla’s shoulder is dotted in beads of water dripping from her damp hair, still loose. The wetness in her hair darkens it, making the white strands at its root to appear even more resplendent. For an instant, Muriel imagines brushing through Marilla’s air with her own hand, moving it to the side, baring the skin underneath it, and the thin, wet fabric of her chemise, and–</p><p>And she should stop herself.</p><p>She moves her eyes away, concentrates on the coming and going of the waves once again. Tries not to think of how that rhythm matches the one of Marilla’s breath, that she can feel on her skin. Or she <em>thinks </em>she can. She may possibly be losing her mind.</p><p>Something catches Muriel’s eye. A seashell, dark against the light-coloured stone. Muriel picks it up. It is just near enough for her to reach without moving from under the blanket. She holds it in her hand, feels its shape. A simple shape, nothing exotic. She sets it back down on the rock, near where Marilla’s thigh rests. It’s not an outright offer, but it is there for Marilla to take, if she wishes to.</p><p>Muriel simply says: ‘Look.’</p><p>She feels slightly childish as soon as she hears herself saying it. Muriel has never been ashamed of her innate enthusiasm for the small things. It is what makes her a good teacher, and it allows her to find joy even in the most unlikely places. Yet, she finds herself wanting to impress Marilla, and wonders if this is the right way, if Marilla is going to think her silly for doing things like pointing out pretty seashells for no reason other than their prettiness.</p><p>Yet, there is no judgement in Marilla’s eyes when she reaches for the shell, and holds it in her own hand. She observes it, like it is entirely worth of her attention. She doesn’t put it down when she speaks.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ she says.</p><p>Muriel thinks she must mean for the shell, and opens her mouth to say that it’s nothing but a shell, but Marilla continues speaking before she can.</p><p>‘… for bringing me here today.’</p><p>Muriel rests her chin on her own knee, holding one leg close to her chest. This way, when she turns to look at Marilla, it doesn’t feel too exposing. She catches the other woman’s gaze on her, expecting a response with an expression that reveals tension.</p><p>‘Technically, it was you that brought me here!’ Muriel tries to keep her answer light.</p><p>‘You know what I mean,’ says Marilla, matter-of-factly.</p><p>Muriel nods. She knows what Marilla means. The truth is, Marilla saying this is affecting Muriel, making her feel like maybe the sea means more than just the sea.</p><p>‘I haven’t spent a day like this in… decades, really.’ Marilla explains with apparent nonchalance.</p><p>‘What about the time you said, when Anne wanted to come here? That can’t have been decades ago…’</p><p>Muriel lets her knee gently hit the side of Marilla’s leg, in a softly teasing gesture. She notices a subtle upturn on Marilla’s lips when she does that.</p><p>‘No, that was just before you arrived,’ Marilla explains. ‘Anne almost drowned herself.’</p><p>She says it with a smile, apparently unbothered, but Muriel knows that Marilla’s smile comes with an exact knowledge of all the ways this could not have ended up a happy memory. Still, you have to give it to Anne, the girl has a talent for trouble.</p><p>‘Not very relaxing, then?’</p><p>‘One might put it like that, yes.’ Marilla’s tone is playful, until it changes: ‘Matthew had to jump in and save her.’</p><p>‘That must have been terrifying.’</p><p>Marilla doesn’t agree openly, but she says: ‘I just stood on the shore. I wasn’t brave enough to go in.’</p><p>‘I think you’re very brave,’ offers Muriel, and she means it.</p><p>‘Well, you might be the only one,’ Marilla replies with the caustic tone she usually reserves for fools.</p><p>‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ Muriel doesn’t budge. ‘Who was it that Matthew and Anne went to when it was all over?’</p><p>‘Me,’ Marilla admits begrudgingly.</p><p>‘Point proven,’ Muriel concludes.</p><p>It’s a peculiar feeling: the rush she usually gets when she proves herself right, but accompanied by a warmth, the certainty she gets from seeing the look in Marilla’s eyes change. She sits a little taller.</p><p>‘And you did get into the water today!’</p><p>‘That I did.’</p><p>They fall quiet after that, and stay like that for a while. Muriel thinks perhaps Marilla has gotten closer, because now she can feel the side of their bare arms touching. The sea is a saviour in many ways, not least that it provides a common place to look. Still, Muriel can’t stop herself sneaking a glance or two at Marilla, whose eyes shine brighter than she’s ever seen them.</p><p>At one point, Marilla catches her looking. It takes a full second before either looks away. Muriel feels herself getting bolder, and looks again. Again, she find’s Marilla’s eyes planted on hers. This time, they stay like that.</p><p>Marilla breaks the silence.</p><p>‘Earlier, when I asked you about Sebastian, you said you weren’t interested. What did you mean?’</p><p>Muriel is taken aback by the sudden bluntness. There is only one answer she can give, and she is sure it is the wrong one.</p><p>‘Being with a man is not what I want in my life at this point,’ she explains, hoping to have kept as diplomatic as possible.</p><p>Marilla’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t seem to be put off. Muriel takes it as a good sign.</p><p>‘May ask what it is that you want?’</p><p>Muriel wasn’t expecting the question.</p><p>‘I have most of the things I want,’ she answers. ‘They’re the things I came to Avonlea for. The joys of teaching. A community. A place to call my home. Quiet and peace.’</p><p>Marilla chuckles. ‘Lord knows the town hasn’t let you have those.’</p><p>‘But they have!’ Muriel counters. Then she too lets out a chuckle. ‘Well, eventually.’</p><p>‘More so now that a certain student of yours has left, I suppose,’ jokes Marilla.</p><p>‘That’s for sure. But Anne was never the problem, I hope you know that.’</p><p>‘I know,’ Marilla replies. Then, after a moment: ‘So what is it that you want and don’t have?’</p><p>Many things can be said of Marilla Cuthbert, but not that the woman will easily give in to diversion, Muriel thinks. Well, she’ll have to answer, won’t she?</p><p>‘Partnership, I guess.’</p><p>Marilla looks confused. Her hair is starting to dry, and one strand flies in front of her face. She brushes it away with her hand as she thinks.</p><p>‘I thought you said you didn’t need to be with a man.’</p><p>‘I did,’ confirms Muriel, trying to sound blasé. For a moment, the fear that she may have gotten the entirely wrong end of the stick overcomes her. But Muriel think she’s seen something. In their gazes, in the way Marilla is leaning into her almost imperceptibly. In the fact that she’s agreed to walk into the freezing ocean with Muriel. She thinks she’s seen something. She hopes she isn’t wrong.</p><p>‘There are other forms of partnership. Other types of partners.’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Marilla isn’t sure she is awake, and not in the middle of an elaborate dream.</p><p>She is sitting on a rock facing the sea, in a state of partial undress. A purely pragmatic state of undress, but still. Still, she is skin to skin with Miss Muriel Stacy, under a blanket that smells faintly of the sea, now that it has absorbed the salt water from their bodies and clothes. Skin to skin with Muriel Stacy, of all people, who Marilla is half-convinced just said something about loving women. At least that’s what it sounded like.</p><p>The strangest part is that Marilla isn’t panicking about any of this. In fact, it is all quite pleasant. Except for the latter declaration. Well, that’s not unpleasant either. Simply surprising. It’s not like Marilla didn’t know about the possibility of women finding… what was the word Muriel used… ‘partnership’ with other women. She just didn’t think she’d ever met one. If that’s even what Muriel meant.</p><p>Muriel is looking at her with apprehension, like she’s worried Marilla might be angry at her.</p><p>‘You mean women,’ Marilla says, not as a question, but as a statement.</p><p>‘I do.’</p><p>With that confirmation, something changes inside Marilla. She looks at Muriel, who looks at her, and she knows. She knows that she has always known, too. That she has spent her entire life perfectly suspended between knowing and not knowing, and now she’s finally being dropped to the ground.</p><p>‘Who?’ Marilla asks, before the haze of her realisation is lifted.</p><p>Muriel stares at her in silence for an instant. Then her face breaks into a soft laugh that mixes with the breaking waves.</p><p>Marilla doesn’t understand what is so comical but she doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Soon, Muriel collects herself, and notices Marilla’s confusion. She looks her straight in the eyes, like she’s gathering her courage.</p><p>‘I think it’s you.’</p><p>That’s all Muriel says.</p><p>‘You think?’</p><p>‘I think.’</p><p>That sentence opens something up in Marilla.</p><p>What a way to say it: <em>‘I think it’s you’.</em> Marilla understands now that thinking and feeling can come as one, and she thinks she feels the same. She thinks it now, but she’s felt it long before. She never had the words to call it by its name. God knows neither of them has the words now either. But if they both ‘think’…</p><p>Marilla doesn’t say anything, but she places a hand on Muriel’s cheek. It’s the side of her face that’s been exposed to the sun, and it feels warm against Marilla’s hand. Muriel’s eyes flutter shut, and her lips part slightly, and Marilla’s fingers tremble against her skin. Muriel is in front of her, waiting.</p><p>So Marilla kisses her.</p><p>It’s only for a moment, and when they break apart Marilla feels a sprout of unsureness taking root. Any doubt gets extirpated soon enough, though, when Muriel’s eyes open again. She looks at Marilla with a tenderness, an openness, that changes everything.</p><p>The corners of Muriel’s eyes crinkle into a smile as she says: ‘Never halfway, right?’</p><p>She laughs, and Marilla feels a breathy laughter come up from her own belly too. Then she feels only Muriel’s hand on her hip, and Muriel’s lips on hers again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They stay sat on that rock a little while longer, even though they are now completely dry and there is no excuse left to justify the sharing of a blanket. Well, there is no one to justify it to but themselves, and Muriel thinks they have no need for excuses anymore.</p><p>When the kissing stops, Muriel goes back to looking at the waves like she was before. Except nothing else is like it was before. The light has changed, and the birds are flying lower, closer to the water. The tide is eating up the beach, with the water coming up to the base of their rock now. Marilla’s head is resting on Muriel’s shoulder, her hair, still lose, tickles Muriel’s back gently.</p><p>It’s all so different now, it feels like the waves could change too. Like at one point, in the perfect instant when a wave not coming in anymore, and not going out yet, it might just freeze in its shape, for no other reason that it feels like it, and that it is free to.</p><p>Muriel keeps her eyes on the waves, waiting for the one that will stop, and she thinks of her father. Her dad, who, so far away from his home, found terror and comfort in the sea. Then, the touch of Marilla’s hand on her arm calls Muriel back to the present. Today, Muriel too has found something in the sea.</p><p>She feels Marilla shiver under the blanket. The wind is less of a breeze now, and more of an utter force. It is time to head home.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Marilla pours some tea for Sebastian, then some for herself too, then she passes the teapot to Matthew, who is sitting to her right. Bash has come to visit with Delphine, and is now sitting in the parlour at Green Gables, updating the Cuthberts on his new visionary ideas for the Lacroix-Blythe farm. Marilla is not entirely sure she is following his every word, but, nonetheless, it is good to see him coming into himself and making plans for the future.</p><p>Delphine seems to also be surer of herself, in her attempts to walk. Marilla has to catch her several times before she knocks any variety of fragile object to the floor while trying to hold herself up on various pieces of furniture. Bash offers to keep her on his lap, but Marilla dissuades him. She will never say this out loud, but Green Gables has been in need of a thrill of chaos since Anne left.</p><p>Now, Delphine is heading toward Marilla. She seems to have learnt that Marilla’s skirt is a soft, safe place to prop herself up. In doing so, the baby finds the pocket in Marilla’s skirt, and she slips her little hand in before she can be stopped. Inside, she finds a seashell.</p><p>Of course, Marilla knows exactly where the shell is from, she remembers Muriel’s small gesture of placing it in front of Marilla back at the beach, an unsaid offer. She is unsure whether she wants her current companions to know about it. Although it wouldn’t reveal anything too risky, that memory feels too delicate, too precious to share, at least for now. So, letting Delphine play with the shell without making a fuss about it seems like the safest way to avoid calling attention to it. To the complete lack of awareness of Matthew and Bash, who are immersed in a (mostly one-way from Bash’s side) conversation, Marilla observes the baby discover this new object.</p><p>It is heart-warming, the awe in the girl’s eyes as she finds out about this entirely new thing. Still, Marilla wouldn’t say she doesn’t feel relief when Delphine loses interest and gives her the shell back, and she can slip it back into the safety of her pocket. Away from the eyes of the others, Marilla’s fingers feel each of the subtle ridges on the shell. She holds on to it like an amulet, and like an amulet she feels its power on her.</p><p>Once Bash will have left, Marilla plans to visit Muriel tonight. She hasn’t seen the schoolteacher since the beach, and that was a week ago now. She did receive a note through Jerry, though, inviting her over to Muriel’s tonight.</p><p>She wonders what it will be like, if she will feel embarrassed, or if she will feel safe like she always does around Muriel Stacy. Perhaps she will feel both. She finds herself more and more capable of recognising the complexity of her own feelings these days. Right now, she feels thrills of worry and excitement when she thinks about tonight, about what it means. It is unconventional, and Marilla never expected it, but she sees now that every time she thought she knew how her life would go, life surprised her. And she wants this, if Muriel does too. She wants this very much.</p><p>She decides to keep the shell in her pocket, to have with her tonight. She decides to jump in. She keeps in mind a voice from the waves: never halfway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for reading! comments are very much appreciated! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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